


Knee Socks

by blue_blue_electricblue



Series: Arctic Monkeys Rick Stuff [2]
Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: And Failing Miserably, Bad Ideas, Bad People, Drinking, F/M, Regret, Sex, Unhealthy Relationships, bad habits, but rick calls me out for it dw he's got yelling at me covered, i get on a soapbox about climate change, i'm still an edgelord in this one i'm really sorry about that, trying to be a responsible adult
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 11:35:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22969369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blue_blue_electricblue/pseuds/blue_blue_electricblue
Summary: You thought you were, well. Better. But then Rick showed back up and with one visit, managed to turn your life upside-down again.But damn if it wasn't a fun visit.
Relationships: Rick Sanchez/Reader
Series: Arctic Monkeys Rick Stuff [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1650706
Comments: 3
Kudos: 31





	Knee Socks

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE READ THIS NOTE!! This is one of the fics that has been sitting in my drive for like a year. I'm sick of looking at it, but I have no guarantee I will continue it. I have no idea where I was going with it. It was just an idea I couldn't get out of my head, and now I'm going to inflict it on everyone else. I hope you enjoy it as it is. I might continue if people are intrigued, but again, I have no guarantee of that.
> 
> This particular work is part of a series, and that series has a few more works in it that I will publish, but there was a plotline that might never Get Done so I apologize for that.
> 
> Warnings here for unhealthy relationships involving dependency on another person, and Rick generally being an asshole.

“So now y-yyou’re profiting off my ideas, huh?”

“You weren’t doing anything with them,” you replied, putting your dish in the sink. “Besides, it was only a million dollars. I put most of it away in research.”

“You bought yourself a nice goddamn house with it.”

“Well, when you decide to profit off your own ideas, I’m sure you’ll get god knows how many Nobel Prizes,” you told him, turning to look at him.

He narrowed his eyes at you. You rolled your eyes and leaned your back up against the kitchen counter.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that,” you said. “It’s not like I looked at the blueprints or schematics or mathematics you did. All you did was give me the idea and I figured it out on my own.”

He scoffed.

“What, I’m not allowed to take inspiration and be comfortable?”

“D-d-do you even teach anymore?” He asked.

“Not really,” you replied. “After winning, I’ve mostly done research and made major breakthroughs. On your ideas, sure, but I worked them out on my own. Probably in a more simplistic way because as much as I hate to say this, you’re a fucking genius and I’ll never be as smart as you and work out your ideas as efficiently as you did, but I’ve worked them out.”

“You stole my ideas and blocked my number.”

“Again, you weren’t using them. And you left. You were gone for four years. I figured you didn’t want me anymore so I moved on. You were an asshole, Rick. I decided to wise up and blocked your number after the first month of you not contacting me.”

He didn’t respond.

“But then, you didn’t know that, did you? There were other ways to get in contact with me. If you even noticed for half a second that I was missing from your life, you would’ve tried to call me. And when you realized I blocked you, you would come after me, because you’re a shitty person who can’t handle when you’re not the center of attention, not the most important person in the universe. And you know what? That did happen. But it happened  _ now. _ You didn’t think about me for  _ four years. _ So don’t come back here and act like you cared the whole time. Piss off.”

“Y-you think you know me, bitch?” He asked, coming towards you. “You’re- you’re damn right that I didn’t think about you for ff- for four years. An-an-and you know what? Yyy- you should be escta-ecstat-ecs-- you should be goddamn ecstatic that I thought about you at all.”

He advanced some more while you instinctively stepped backwards. Some feeling pooled in your gut. You couldn’t quite be sure, as you watched him step closer and closer, whether the feeling was terror or lust.

He was right in front of you now, arms on either side of your body, trapping you to the counter.

“You should be ffffucking thrilled that I-I-I ww- that I still want you on my dick.”

You bit your lip. You were, deep down, thrilled. Whether it was because he cut the gloom and monotony of your life or because of some actual attachment or because you hadn’t got any in for-fucking-ever, you weren’t sure.

You glanced at the microwave clock, looking for some excuse to shove him off of you.

**_00:00._ **

“Rick,” you breathed, his face inches from yours. “It’s late. You should go.”

“Yeah, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

He kissed you, though “kissing” was a word that you didn’t really fit here. What he did was more violent and rough, but his lips on yours radically destroyed your ability to think, so the word “kiss” would have to do for now.

He pulled back. “You taste like candy.”

“I’ve been taking cough drops,” you said, a shit eating grin on your face. “I’m sick. I hope you get it.”

“As- as if I haven’t already made myself immune to everything.” He rolled his eyes and pulled your face to his again.

At some point, you shoved him off yourself and dragged him to the bedroom.

A few hours later, he lay passed out next to you in bed. You were only half awake yourself, but you couldn’t quite sleep. Rick had ignited something in you, something you were desperately trying to ignore, something you had been trying so hard not to light.

You pulled yourself out of bed and shivered. It was cold. You stumbled over to your dresser, grabbing at a shirt to put on, it was like a jacket or something, you weren’t sure, too dark to tell. It smelled like bile and smoke and alcohol. Probably Rick’s lab coat then. You pulled open a drawer, looking for panties and socks. You had shit to do, Nobel Prizes to win, a world to make better with scientific advancements. If not you, who would do it? Rick?

You snorted to yourself and wandered downstairs clad in only a lab coat, panties that you hoped were sexy, and knee socks. Damn, it was cold. You knew what you were getting into when you moved to Boston, but shit.

You were willing to bet you looked hot as hell though, so it was probably worth it.

You stumbled back into the kitchen. Decisions, decisions. Did you want substantial food or pancakes and tequila?

There was a faint whirring upstairs, a few groans, a pause, and then--

“W-w-wha-at the fuck did you do with my lab coat, you bitch?” he shouted down the stairs.

You smirked to yourself. Tequila and pancakes, then. It was five in the morning after all.

Rick stumbled downstairs as you searched through the freezer for some good, hard liquor.

“If you’re lucky, you’ll get pancakes,” you told him.

“P-pancakes, huh? What- what do I have to do to get my lab coat back?” He asked, plopping himself down at your kitchen table.

You turned around to face him, nipples barely covered by the edges of his lab coat, praying you had grabbed sexy panties in the dark. You knew that the knee socks looked cute but the rest of you…

Well. Stay confident.

“Oh, this old thing?” You said, opening it up. You felt like you were a flasher from one of those old movies. “You’ll only get this back if you’re  _ good. _ ”

“I guess I-I-I should just-- just give up any hope of wearing it again.” He grinned at you darkly. “Looks better on you anyway.”

He was a wrinkly old bastard, but  _ damn _ if he wasn’t smooth sometimes. You shook your head at him.

“You, sir, have just earned yourself some top-shelf Earth tequila.”

“Top-top-shelf, huh? I guess Little Miss Miser didn’t put  _ all _ of her prize money away for houses and retirement.”

“Shut the fuck up and accept the booze, Rick.”

Rick shut the fuck up and accepted the booze. You opted to avoid glasses altogether and instead pass the bottle back and forth in comfortable, companionable silence. You looked out the huge bay windows that surrounded the breakfast nook on three sides.

“It’s raining,” you commented absently. “‘Sweird. Doesn’t usually rain in Boston in January. We’d usually be up to the eyeballs in snow right now, but we’re not.”

“It’s just fucking global warming and you know it. Don’t see why it’s such a big deal.”

“Climate change,” you said, still in a bit of a daze.

“What?”

“We usually call it climate change. The terms aren’t, like, interchangeable, but climate change is usually better to describe all of the negative effects that the release of greenhouse emissions by large corporations is having on the world. I think it greater encompasses the problem, and can be used in a more versatile fashion. Still, the earth is warming, in large part due to the impact of unregulated capitalism.”

“Hope you enjoyed that,” he said and snorted.

“Enjoyed what?” You asked, already a little tipsy and still sort of asleep.

“Enjoyed pushing your sissy liberal agenda on a medium that, while typically left-wing, generally isn’t a good platform for spreading such ideas.”

You didn’t really know what he was talking about, but honestly, you didn’t care.

“Rick, you share the belief that climate change is a thing,” you pointed out. “You’re a scientist; of course you do. You just don’t give a shit ‘cause you can up and leave, just, like, whenever.”

He rolled his eyes. “Does-doesn’t stop you talking at length about it in something that shouldn’t be a thought-provoking call to action from being a sissy way of pushing a sissy liberal agenda.”

“You know what? I just realized that I don’t actually give a shit about what that’s supposed to mean.”

“Y-yeah, don’t worry about it. Wasn’t meant for you.”

You decided to ignore that and move on.

The silence returned. You stood up and walked over to the sink. You had left your dish there earlier. That needed to be cleaned up eventually.

Large hands grasped your waist  just like they used to, just like you used to love and you leaned back into Rick’s chest.

“You l-look rrreally fucking hot like this,” he murmured in your ear. “So fucking hot. My lab coat, fucking knee socks babe, god, I just wanna bend you over this fucking sink--’

“Rick!” You hissed at him, suddenly feeling a little warm.

“Oh, sure, after we fuck for hours, you’re a prude.”

“No, it’s not that, it’s just…” you tried to think of how you wanted to say this. “It’s this house. I dunno. It feels like responsibility and adulthood, and when we used to fuck it was… decidedly not that. It feels weird here. Like there’s a ghost judging me for fucking you.”

He snorted.

“Ghost didn’t- didn’t seem to give one fu-cking und-undead shit about me spreading your legs ‘sfar as they’d go and--”

“Rick!” You said again, turning in his arms to glare at him disapprovingly and shove at his chest.

Why were you so drawn in by this asshole? Why did you find him charismatic, magnetic, addictive?

He smirked down at you.  _ God, _ he was tall. That was very rude of him and you really had to disagree.

You pulled him down and kissed him, a proper, real, emotional kiss this time. He’d give you shit for that later, but for now, you kissed him.

“It doesn’t have to be just me, you know,” you said to him, softly. “You could get one with me. The Nobel Prize, I mean. I’m not asking for you to outright give me your ideas, but you could be rich.  _ We _ could be rich. Hell, you could leave me behind. Show everyone scientific advancements they’d never have dreamed of. You’d be the next Einstein. Better, even.”

He was silent.

You looked him in the eyes. He was always like this. He could rule the fucking world if he wanted to. He could do so much good and so much ill and he just. Didn’t care. He didn’t care about anything. He could be so rich. He could have anything he ever wanted.

“Never mind,” you sighed. You pulled him down for another kiss. “You don’t have to be rich. You just have to bend me over this sink. Preferably soon.”

“F-f-fuckin’ sweet.” He grinned evilly and the fun started again.

Later, when he grabbed his lab coat and portal-ed out, leaving you exhausted on the kitchen floor and muttering a “bye, thanks, see ya soon,” you could feel something that you knew was bad news. You wanted with all of your heart to not be falling for him (again) so he could leave you wrecked (again). You wanted to move on and research things and become important in the world. You wanted him to leave you alone and never come back.

Lying on the kitchen floor, listening to the dull patter of rain on the roof, exhausted and naked except for knee socks, you could admit to yourself that what you really wanted was for Rick to come back.

**Author's Note:**

> For the record, I'm a leftist, and not a liberal, thank you very much.


End file.
